So it’s 3:06 in the morning, and NOW I feel like writing an entry. I blame my relatives invading my house and forcing my sleeping schedule to push back a few hours (my little 8-year-old cousin can stay up ’til 4:30 a.m. and therefore I was the one designated to accompany her on her online gaming adventures). In any case, I just can’t sleep; I tried everything (even curling up like a ball underneath my blankie with the pillow over my head). But there would be an itch on my arm that I’d have to scratch, a cramp in my left leg or what have you. I hate insomnia. Hate it, hate it, hate it. I especially think it’s quite inconvenient tonight since I’m planning on going to OCM tomorrow. The good news is that now Sam and Shiman can jump for joy ’cause I FINALLY UPDATED! YIPPERS! I’m off the hook, yes?

Right, well, just warning those people with short attention spans now that this is gonna be a pretty boring entry. No fun pictures, Youtube videos (cue the “Aw!”), or anything like that. Yup, this entry’s going to be strictly on some self-reflecting, because I think my relatives’ visit kind of shifted my view on life a little bit; jolted me to a realization of sorts. They reminded me of where I came from, my Indonesian roots, and the fact that I’ve been downright ungrateful and spoiled at times. Sometimes I forget that I don’t come from the same backgrounds as some U.S.-born citizens. For example, when most of you were eight years old, you never had to face the shame and embarrassment of some six-year-old, snot-nosed girl whining to her parents that she didn’t want to play Barbie with you because you were stupid and couldn’t speak English (my mom’s friend’s kid — lovely girl, isn’t she?). That was my first welcome to America. And after seeing and spending time with my younger cousins whose English (despite years of taking English lessons) were sub par at best… the memories came rushing back. Plus, I was reading Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake at the time, too, so it was such an appropriate book for the occasion. (Random note about the book: it was SO beautifully written, and Lahiri really captured the immigrant experience regardless of what country you came from).

In other news, thanks to my wacko aunt and AP test results (let’s just say that they were VERY satisfactory), I finally felt that oh-crap-I-graduated-from-high-school feeling. Except it wasn’t what I expected at all, nope. It was a mixture of relief, anticipation, and a bit of fear. For the future, for the unknown. ‘Cause believe it or not, folks, we’re that much closer to entering the career world. And I don’t know about you, but I sure am nervous about it. I know that it’s reassuring to know that God has a plan for me, but I still can’t help but dwell and worry over my future nonetheless. I do know that I have to do my best in everything, though, even if God does have a plan for me. Can’t sit on my butt and expect Him to do all the work. That’s just bad manners. :]

Will end it on that note, because I seriously need to catch some zZz’s for tomorrow. ‘Til the next time I feel like writing! Which will be in a few months!

. . .

JK! . . . or am I?